


obedear

by otter_pop



Series: Enchantment [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, First Meetings, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Slice of Life, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 12:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13458051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter_pop/pseuds/otter_pop
Summary: Jongdae didn’t even want to think of the catlike curve of his eyes, how dark and deep set they were against his smooth complexion, blemish free other than a few scars against the curve of his cheek. “Thank you.” Jongdae glanced down at the worker’s shirt, a small pin settled on the curve of his chest. “Zitao.”





	obedear

**Author's Note:**

> [▲ ✞ ☾ ✞ ▲](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETbGpGJNVLM)

Early winter mornings were the best kinds of mornings, in Jongdae’s humble opinion. The apartment was mostly quiet, and while Jongdae did appreciate the gentle ambience of his and Minseok’s shared apartment, he also enjoyed it mainly for this:

“Jongdae,” Minseok warned, hearing the first few quiet notes of “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy” echoing from the living room record player situated in the corner of the room as he finished dusting the television stand. “Stop, it’s not funny.”

“It’s  _ always  _ funny,” Jongdae replied as he strolled down the hall, buttoning his white shirt and taking a moment to give himself a passing glance at himself in the mirror before readjusting his black necklace around his throat and the wire wrapped amethyst necklace against his chest.

“That shirt is too thin,” Minseok chided. “Wear a jacket.”

“Well, of course I’m gonna wear a jacket.” Jongdae flicked his finger, and in a single movement, his jacket was in his arms, swinging it over his shoulders with a sigh.

“Is it too much for you to get your jacket from the hook next to the door? Seriously, you’re walking out that way anyways.” Minseok rolled his eyes, opened the blinds to the living room, and dusted the top of the windows before opening it.

“Minseok, it’s  _ cold  _ outside.”

Minseok looked at the window, then back to Jongdae, sticking his arm out of the window a moment later.

“Is it?”

“You’re not allowed to open the windows anymore, remember? You let this place fucking freeze over because you’re used to being below freezing temperatures.”

Minseok grimaced, mocking Jongdae behind his back and closing the window with a quiet huff.

“Don’t forget we need milk,” Minseok shouted after Jongdae, who was already halfway down the hall of the apartment complex, slamming the door shut with the wave of his hand and heading downstairs with a quiet sigh. He was sure he’d hear a lecture from Minseok later about using magic so freely when anybody in the apartment complex could catch him, but that was a problem to deal with later. For now, he waved his hand and opened the door to their apartment complex, taking in a deep sigh of the winter air and holding it in his lungs before starting down the street, shopping list written on his wrist in case he happened to forget.

  
  
  


Jongdae’s shopping list was never anything of actual merit to the apartment. Grocery shopping and furniture, things like that— Minseok took care of all that. He went shopping after long days at work, called it his one reprieve (whatever that was supposed to mean), and Jongdae didn’t have to worry about much other than cleaning up the apartment every now and again.

Which left him free to buy his typical amenities for spells and potions, even being able to buy new items for his altar. Carrying three bags in one hand, Jongdae carried candles and oils, dried flower petals and sage tied together with rubber bands, and so,  _ so  _ many crystals nestled together in small bags. He had even picked up a book for Minseok on cooking, another on faerie folklore, and one last children’s book, because Minseok liked reading kid’s books every now and again, and collecting them even more.

Jongdae had one last store to visit— a bookstore that carried books only he really cared about. He had been in to pick up books only once before, running in and slapping his money down and running back out, but that was because he fucked up a spell and practically hexed the entire apartment complex, which was  _ obviously  _ an issue (or at least, according to Minseok, it was an issue). 

The store was neatly situated between an antique shop and a coffee shop beside it, comfortably tucked away from public eye and only to bear witness to those who truly looked for it. In the window of the store, he could already see the register, a worker he hadn’t seen the last time he popped in standing there, grabbing a pile of books from beside him and setting them down on the counter.

Without a moment of hesitation, Jongdae walked towards the store, opened the door, and took a step inside. 

A wave of something hit him, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, goosebumps littering his shoulders as he took a deep breath in and felt  _ it.  _

Albeit weak and not completely developed, it was a hex, clearly placed on the doorway of the store. The worker at the register hardly seemed to recognize Jongdae even walking in, barely sparing him a second glance before smiling and welcoming him in.

“Do you need help finding something?” The worker said, tone honeyed over and soft. Jongdae took a second to collect himself, his breath still knocked back into his lungs and trapped there in the tightest confines of his chest.

“No, I’m just....” Jongdae trailed off, furrowing his brow just slightly. “I’m just looking.”

“Would you like me to hold your bags up here?”

Jongdae nodded quickly, handing his bags over to the worker and watching as he set them down behind the counter. “Let me know if you  _ do  _ need any help.”

“Thanks,” Jongdae said, almost dumbfounded, walking away from the counter and lazily tracing his steps through the rows of books. 

Right. Books, he came here for books. But now that he was standing there looking through them, he couldn’t remember what he needed. Just that there was dark magic on the front of the store, and now he couldn’t shake the feeling like the worker at the front knew something about it.

“Actually,” Jongdae spoke up after a few minutes of uselessly searching for what it was that he wanted, “I need a book on poisonous flowers.”

“Hm,” the worker began, quickly walking out from behind the counter. Jongdae blinked, and within a moment, the worker was beside him, then crooking his finger and leading Jongdae to a separate row of books. “I don’t think we have one just about poisonous flowers, but we do have an encyclopedia of poisonous plants.” The worker pulled out a thick book from the third row of a bookshelf. “I’m sure there’s a section on flowers in specific.”

“This works,” Jongdae said, taking it in hand and looking up at the worker. The deep, sun kissed tone of his skin practically shimmered under the glow of the bookstore lights. Jongdae didn’t even want to think of the catlike curve of his eyes, how dark and deep set they were against his smooth complexion, blemish free other than a few scars against the curve of his cheek. “Thank you.” Jongdae glanced down at the worker’s shirt, a small pin settled on the curve of his chest. “Zitao.”

“Anything else?”

“You’re going to laugh at me for the last two,” Jongdae warned. Zitao snorted.

“Unless you’re going to ask for a porno magazine, I really doubt anything you ask for is going to be ridiculous.”

Jongdae laughed involuntarily, his skin prickling again with a wave of magic, and... was Zitao doing this? Jongdae flickered his gaze towards Zitao, and then promptly looked away when he realized Zitao was still waiting expectantly for an answer.

“I need a book of love spells.”

At that, Zitao let out a high pitched laugh, not realizing he had done it until Jongdae was already grimacing at him, letting out a loud whine.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I swear I wasn’t laughing at you, I was just laughing at how serious you were about it. What’s the other thing you need?”

Jongdae hummed, pursing his lips after giving Zitao a once over. Maybe Zitao wasn’t the one responsible for the magic up front. Only humans laughed at spell books like that. Well, humans and other supernatural beings that  _ weren’t  _ witches. Besides, Jongdae never used love potions and spells for actual love. He just found they tended to bring more luck and good fortune, and typically worked better than white magic did at times (and the fact that Jongdae wasn’t good at white magic had nothing to do with it at all).

“Tarot cards.”

“What kind?” Zitao replied almost instantaneously.

“I need a deviant moon deck.” Jongdae licked his lips. Zitao left without saying much else, ducking down behind the counter and reappearing just a second after. The book in his right hand was dark brown, thick leather cover bound together by twine before he set down a deck of neatly wrapped cards on the counter.

“Here,” Zitao said. Jongdae nodded his head, tucking the first book he had under his arm and looking back up at Zitao as he approached the counter. 

Jongdae set the encyclopedia down on the counter, looked back up, and when Zitao set the book he had grabbed from underneath the counter down on the top, it was... pink. Not leather at all. A normal hardcover book, words printed over the front of it in detailed cursive with flowers decorating it intricately, sat in front of him instead.

“Uh.”

Zitao looked up at Jongdae.

“What happened to the first book you had?” Jongdae said. Zitao furrowed his brows.

“This is the first book I had.”

“No, the leather one.” Jongdae waved his hand, as if it would bring it back.

“You asked for a love spell book, right?” Zitao said, running his fingers over the front of the book. Jongdae nodded, parting his lips to speak, but quickly cutting himself off and shaking his head. “This is it, then.”

Jongdae let out a quiet huff. “I must be seeing things.”

“You  _ were  _ across the store,” Zitao reasoned, which was nice for someone who should have been laughing Jongdae out of the store eight ways to Sunday already, but he digressed. “You probably just thought you saw a brown book.”

Jongdae nodded, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and watching as Zitao quickly punched in numbers on the register, the total coming up on the small total bar above it.

“Seems kind of low,” Jongdae said as he handed a few bills over to Zitao.

“Hm, I guess it does.” Zitao took the money without hesitation, the register popping open just a second later.

“Are you not charging me—”

“Any other person wouldn’t question it.” Zitao made change quickly, handing it back to Jongdae in his open palm and giving him a smile. “Do you want another bag for these?”

Jongdae narrowed his gaze towards Zitao, studying the expression on his face, and yet still, finding nothing, no sign of teasing or taunting, like he was trying to play a joke on him, so he shook his head. “They can fit in the other bags.”

Zitao did as he was told, quickly tucking the books and the pack of tarot cards away in the bags Jongdae already had when he walked in the store, then set it down in front of him.

With one fluid movement, Jongdae took his bags, making sure his fingers were securely around the handles before giving Zitao a small nod and thanking him again. Zitao’s smile hadn’t faltered. In fact, it had seemed to grow just slightly, as Jongdae approached the door and felt a wave of magic hit him almost two times as strong as it had when he had walked in.

Jongdae wanted to rush out. He really did. From the unsettled feeling deep in his gut since he had walked in, to the way Zitao seemed to dodge his questions and somehow was very quick and agile and knew just where  _ everything  _ was in the store— something was off.

So he stopped in his tracks, turning once more to Zitao. His thoughts were panicked, rushed because of the waves of magic and nausea that were now rolling down his spine, but still he stopped.

“How’d you know the book was brown?” Jongdae said.

“What do you mean?”

“The book.” Jongdae waved vaguely, considering the book had just  _ poofed  _ out of existence. “The one I thought I saw. I said it was leather. How’d you know it was brown?”

Zitao swallowed thickly, the bob of his adam’s apple against his throat all the answer Jongdae needed, but still, he waited for an answer. Zitao shook his head, let out a meek laugh.

“Aren’t all leather bound books brown?” Zitao shrugged. “Generally, anyway.”

“Well... it  _ was  _ brown,” continued Jongdae.

“Must’ve been a slip of the tongue,” Zitao said easily.

“Tongue.”

Zitao let out another high pitched laugh, covering his mouth with his hand as Jongdae flushed furiously. That last bit wasn’t supposed to come out.

“Thanks again,” Jongdae said. Zitao nodded, waved him off, and with that, Jongdae walked out, back into the winter weather that knocked the air back into his lungs with the same intensity the air from the store had when he had walked in. Jongdae crossed the street once he noticed it was clear, standing on the other side and holding his bags close before he finally, finally looked back at the store.

When he did, Jongdae found Zitao, the exact same Zitao he had been talking to a moment earlier, now lifting a pile of books from the counter with one hand, pushing them towards the bookshelves, and shelving them in different places, all while standing at the register, drinking a cup of coffee and not looking up from a book in his hands.

  
  
  


Minseok was lounging on the couch when Jongdae came back. Dressed in his work clothes, he looked absolutely, positively pissed off.

“Did they call you in last minute?” Jongdae said as soon as he walked in. Minseok nodded with a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine, though. I’ll just pick up some coffee on my way in.”

“That’s nice, that’s nice,” Jongdae rushed out, and Minseok could already tell that Jongdae had something he wanted to tell him. He waved his hand, and Jongdae broke. “Minseok, there’s another witch!”

“There are lots of witches,” Minseok replied easily.

“No, I mean— I mean an actual witch! With a bloodline and— and he was practicing magic, and... and there was a  _ hex  _ on the door to the store.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re telling me you found a store with a worker who practices dark magic in public.”

“Well... yes.”

“Jongdae, you realize how crazy you sound right now? Nobody practices black magic anymore, let alone in public.”

“People still practice it!” Jongdae said, almost defensive. “Just because I don’t.... Whatever. Look, the magic was so strong. I could feel it as soon as I walked in. And... he was transmuting things. Books? He turned one book into another one.”

“Oh, so now he’s an alchemist witch practicing dark magic?”

Jongdae huffed, throwing his bags down and turning to Minseok with a grimace on his face.

“You’re the only other supernatural being I know in this goddamn world.”

“You have your family—”

“You are the  _ only other  _ supernatural being I  _ know  _ in this goddamn world, Minseok,” Jongdae repeated louder, making Minseok flush in embarrassment and nod his head. “I’m not saying it isn’t hard to believe. I’m still not even sure myself, but it was so strong, and I know what I saw.”

Minseok sighed, quiet, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Okay, so, you found a witch. Are you going to talk to him? Ask him about his bloodline? Maybe he only uses black magic for good.”

“There’s no such thing as using black magic for good.” 

Jongdae paced the living room, his hands clasped behind his back before he hummed and waved his index finger. His bags moved from their spot on the floor, gradually moving towards his bedroom before he closed his bedroom door with the wave of his hand.

“I’m gonna fuck with him.”

“Oh, Jongdae, c’mon now, that’s childish as hell. And you just said that there’s no using black magic for good, so he must be a bad person.”

“If he’s going to practice magic in public, then I’m going to send a message that someone else knows.” The disapproving look on Minseok’s face said he definitely thought it was a bad idea. “Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen. He can’t hurt me.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry. Just... don’t get caught, okay?” Minseok frowned and looked back at the phone in his hands. “We don’t need any enemies in this town.”

“Aw, Minseok, are you worried for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, either. We just got settled in this apartment, I don’t want to have to move.”

Jongdae smiled, knowing that Minseok was just avoiding admitting that, yes, he was worried, and yes, he didn’t want Jongdae to get hurt, because Minseok was like that sometimes. His protectiveness was quiet, and Jongdae knew that by now.

“Oh, I forgot to pick up milk, too,” called Jongdae as he ran down the hall to his room, peeling his jacket off.

“Of course you did.” Minseok groaned and pushed himself off of the couch. “I’m leaving before I freeze the apartment.”

“Wear a jacket!”

“It’s not even  _ cold!”  _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Nearly a week had passed since Jongdae had first encountered Zitao, the unknown witch who worked in a bookstore nestled between an antique store and a coffee shop. He hadn’t been near the store since his first encounter with him, unable to think of an excuse as to why he needed to be in the store again so shortly after the first time, but now Jongdae needed a book on familiars, and he knew exactly where to find one.

The hex on the front door wasn’t nearly as strong as the first time Jongdae had walked in. It probably needed refreshing, and yet, nobody had done anything yet, so if Zitao was a witch, he clearly wasn’t as diligent as Jongdae, if he did say so himself.

“I’ll be out in a second!” Zitao called from a far part of the store as soon as Jongdae stepped in.

“Take your time,” replied Jongdae, scouring the bookshelves again and pacing through the rows with a planned steadiness.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Jongdae turned on his heel after a moment to find Zitao standing in the doorway of a backroom, holding a pile of books in his arms. He gave Jongdae a once over, something Jongdae didn’t miss as Zitao started towards the front counter and set the books down just a second later.

“Is that how you greet all returning customers?”

Zitao let out a snort of laughter and put his hands on his hips.

“Do you need help looking for something?”

“I don’t, actually.” Jongdae pursed his lips and started turning the corner of one of the bookshelves. “Don’t mind me.”

It was easy for Jongdae to move to the furthest corner of the store, hidden behind stacks and stacks of books. He mindlessly took one off of the shelf, flipping through the pages and hearing Zitao talking to himself at the counter. If Jongdae was right, and maybe Zitao was just a bit too cocky for his own good, then he had a chance to catch him in the act if he just waited Zitao out long enough.

So Jongdae started by flipping through the pages of every book he pulled off the shelves, meticulously reading every other sentence, maybe the full page if something caught his interest, but mainly to bide his time.

Seconds into minutes, and before long, Jongdae could hear the shuffling of books. He took a careful, testing step around the corner of the bookshelf, still mainly concealing himself away. Zitao was hunched over the counter, writing something down on a pile of papers in front of him. His purple hair fell over his eyes, effectively hiding Jongdae from the corner of his vision.

And, as Jongdae thought  _ (good job, Jongdae, you’re so smart,  _ he thought, mentally patting himself on the back), Zitao was moving books from the counter to the shelves, quickly, his fingers flicking with precision and shelving books faster than he was yesterday. Maybe out of fear of being caught or just plain rushing to get work done, but either way, Jongdae saw his opportunity, and he was going to take it.

Hiding behind the bookshelf again, Jongdae took a deep breath, using his index finger to choose one of the books Zitao was shelving, and promptly flicking it to the side, hard, the sound of a thump filling the air. Jongdae held back a quiet laugh at the sudden, consecutive thuds of books falling, the ones Zitao was still holding midair completely dropping to the ground. Jongdae peered over the edge of the bookshelf a moment later.

“What was that?” Jongdae said. Zitao jumped at the sound of his voice, rushing to pick up the books.

“Oh, I-I just dropped some books.”

Jongdae quirked a brow, still trying to play it off like he wasn’t completely fucking with Zitao just for shits and giggles, and pointing at the books scattered across the store.

“Were you  _ throwing  _ the books, or what? How’d they end up all over the place like that?”

Zitao froze while picking the books up, his eyes immediately meeting Jongdae’s, a hint of  _ something  _ lying in the gleam of his eyes. Jongdae couldn’t place his finger on what it was, but he didn’t waver, didn’t show any signs that he knew the answer to how the books ended up all over the place (it was Jongdae’s own fault, of course he knew).

“They just  _ did,” _ answered Zitao eventually. Jongdae almost wanted to click his tongue in disappointment. What kind of weak ass answer was that? Any other person— any other  _ witch—  _ would’ve been losing their mind trying to explain their way out of a situation like that, and yet, there was Zitao, picking up the books and acting like it wasn’t a big deal that there was a dropped book right next to Jongdae’s feet, and another directly in front of the counter in front of the store.

“If you say so.” Jongdae hummed. “Well, I lied, I actually do need your help.”

Zitao huffed, quickly picking up the books and setting them down on the counter before walking up to Jongdae and picking up the book next to his feet. He shelved the book, then straightened out and quirked a brow, as if that was a sign he should continue.

“I need books on familiars.”

“Familiars....” Zitao trailed off, unsure, but catching on a second later. “You mean, like, a familiar spirit?”

“The witchy kind, Zitao.” Jongdae said, waving his hand and catching himself moving one of the books from the counter on accident. “You know, cats, birds, snakes, rats, the like?”

“Are you writing a paper on witches or something?” Zitao said, a hint of suspicion laced in the undertow of his voice, but not throwing Jongdae off his plan. Instead, Jongdae hummed in agreeance.

“I’m taking a course on witches and witchcraft at the college in town,” lied Jongdae. “That’s why the book of potions, and tarot cards. It’s for a presentation.”

“That explains it,” mumbled Zitao, more to himself than anybody else, but Jongdae caught it anyway. Jongdae cleared his throat as Zitao looked through a shelf of books, squinting at the titles before tugging out a black book and turning it over for Jongdae to look at.  _ A Witch’s Familiar: Partnerships for Successful Magic.  _ “This should have everything you want, but there are some other books the delve into it more, if you want to look at those, too.”

“No, this is fine.” Jongdae smiled up at Zitao, and it was only at that moment that he realized Zitao was almost a head taller than he was. “Do you believe in them?”

“In what? Familiars?”

“Witches,” Jongdae supplied. He didn’t miss the chill that seemed to prickle up Zitao’s spine at that.

“What’s there to believe in?”

“I don’t know.... I mean, do you think they exist?”

“Maybe.” 

Zitao appeared uninterested in the conversation, but Jongdae wasn’t planning on letting him slip so early, so he followed Zitao to the counter, where Zitao began to straighten out the books he had dropped, some of the pages folded over and uneven from being dropped. Jongdae set his book down on the counter, waiting patiently before Zitao finally punched numbers into the register and rang him up.

“I believe in them. In witches, I mean.”

“Well, they’re not like Tinkerbell in  _ Peter Pan.  _ It’s not like they need to be believed in to be real,” Zitao said, easily taking Jongdae’s bait. “And anybody can call themselves a witch these days. It’s a religion.”

“You know what kind of witch I mean, though.”

“Brooms, crooked hats, warty noses, and a black cauldron in the living room with green goop in it? That kind of witch?” Zitao teased. Jongdae couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe they exist. Who knows? Anyone could be anything, right?”

“Maybe you're right, Zitao.”

“You know my name, but I don't know yours.” Zitao watched intently as Jongdae swiped his card through the card reader and waited patiently. 

“We can keep it that way. Professional.”

“Or I can look at the name on the receipt,” Zitao said, giving Jongdae a side eye before he heard Jongdae sigh heavily.

“Way to blow the mystery. My name is Jongdae.”

“Nice to know your name.” Zitao grinned, handing Jongdae his receipt and wrapping the book in a paper and tying it shut with twine. “You ever met a witch, Jongdae?”

Jongdae snorted involuntarily, panicking for a split second when Zitao gave him a suspicious smile, but didn't say anything. “Well, like you said, anybody could be anything. Maybe I have and just didn't know it.”

“Wouldn't that be cool?” Zitao said. He reached across the counter to hand the book to Jongdae, their fingers brushing for a split second. It took every fiber of willpower in Jongdae’s body to hold back the chill that spread through his body as soon as Zitao touched him.

“Wicked,” murmured Jongdae.

“Yeah, or that.” With the way Zitao looked at Jongdae, it was almost as if he half expected Jongdae to stay for a while, but Jongdae was smarter than that, knew better than to overstay and let Zitao really suspect him of anything.

“I'll, uh, let you know how the presentation goes.”

“Please do,” Zitao agreed.

Jongdae rushed out of the store at that, running across the street and not stopping until he had turned a corner and was hidden away from Zitao, in case he had still been watching him run out of the door. 

Holding the book to his chest, Jongdae snuck a glance over to the store. Zitao was picking up stacks of books, one pile in his actual hands, and the other midair, just barely noticeable to anybody rushing past the store, but very, very clear to Jongdae. 

With a snicker, Jongdae flicked his hand, both columns of books coming tumbling down. And before Jongdae could catch Zitao’s reaction, he ran down the street and started the walk back to the apartment complex.

  
  
  


This schedule continued for a few weeks. Jongdae would visit the store, sometimes Zitao would be there, and sometimes Zitao wouldn’t. The first few visits were simple, and the hex on the front door was seriously weakening, so Jongdae had no qualms with walking in and messing with Zitao. It was so much more fun to tease Zitao when there were other people in the store as well, because Zitao was constantly panicked and horrified whenever something went against his magic, and... well, Jongdae would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it at least a little bit.

It was in the third (or so) week that Jongdae noticed the hex was strong again. It practically made him dizzy when he was approaching the store, and before he was noticed by Zitao, who was dusting the store quickly, Jongdae turned on his heel and left. His throat felt tight, chest in knots, pulse quick, and  _ goddamn,  _ that was a strong fucking hex on the door. 

Jongdae already knew it was black magic on the entrance, but Jongdae wanted to know what  _ kind  _ of black magic. He wanted to know what kind of witch Zitao was to be dabbling in those things, and if he should’ve even wanted to know what it was that made him use hexes so strong on the front door of a bookstore.

So, on a late Saturday evening, Jongdae decided to slip his jacket on and escape from the apartment before Minseok could have asked him what it was he thought he was doing this late at night. Jongdae just wanted answers, that was all.

The walk to the store was easy, less than ten minutes as Jongdae whistled lowly, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket before he stood at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change as a group of young women gathered on the opposite side of the street. The light turned, and Jongdae rushed across the street, the bookstore in his sights now that he was closer.

The lights were dimmed, and it didn’t look like there was anybody else in the store. They did close early, or at least, they closed earlier than Jongdae was in the store sometimes, so he wasn’t particularly sure if this was a normal time for them. Either way, Jongdae took a deep breath in, approaching the entrance to the door, and looking around him for any sign of people (there weren’t any, it was almost midnight, he was surprised there were even a few people walking around at this time of night), and then crouched down on the ground in front of the store.

It looked normal, so that was a start, Jongdae thought. Most hexes didn’t leave behind any markings, considering the caster typically didn’t want anybody to know they casted a hex in the first place. 

The closer Jongdae moved his hand to the entrance, the more his fingers twitched and tingled, his hand jerking back on instinct alone, like he was moving to touch a hot stove. 

Fighting through every instinct inside him to pull away, Jongdae finally set his hand down on the entrance, brushing his fingers across and lifting it up to find dirt decorating the tips of his fingers.

Jongdae lifted his hands up in front of him, dirt freckled across the tips of his fingers, and he definitely knew what it was. “Burial dirt. Christ, are they trying to fucking kill someone—”

As soon as the words left Jongdae’s lips, he felt someone grabbing onto his arms, pulling him back against their chest, his arms folded uncomfortably behind him.

“Ah, fuck!” Jongdae shouted too loud, felt himself being shoved face first into the wall beside the store, his hands just barely bracing himself against it. 

A tingling sensation spread at the back of his neck, and Jongdae could tell it was magic that was keeping him pinned against the wall. At times like these, Jongdae really loathed himself for being such a self righteous witch, for not learning some of the more forceful magic where he could control  _ people  _ and their  _ movements.  _ Jongdae thought using magic against someone’s will was disgusting, but goddamn it, if he didn’t think it would be useful right now....

“Would you just calm down a minute?! I was just looking, you don’t have to fucking kill me—”

Jongdae finally wretched one of his hands free from the magic and made to grab the trash can at the end of the sidewalk, sweeping it forward and nearly knocking it against whoever it was that was keeping him pinned to the wall. The magic weakened, and then— 

“Jongdae?”

Before Jongdae could respond, he felt himself being flipped over, all the air punched out of his lungs as he was slammed against the wall again.

Standing in front of him, in all of his six foot tall, purple haired, pierced glory, was Zitao, the cashier at the bookstore. After a moment of staring, Zitao dropped his magic, Jongdae immediately falling to his knees and coughing as he cleared his lungs and crawled away from the door of the store.

“Are you the one that’s been messing with me in the store?” Zitao said, his voice sounding frantic, rushed. Jongdae coughed again, glaring up at Zitao.

“You almost fucking killed me!”

Zitao flushed angrily. “I thought you were a demon or something!” He pouted and started again. “You can really scare someone doing that shit. I thought there was a demon coming in the store and messing with the customers. We’ve had imp problems before. I didn’t want a recurrence.”

“Christ, I almost pissed myself just now, I thought you were gonna kill me.” 

Jongdae rolled over on his back, not caring about how absolutely filthy the sidewalk undoubtedly was underneath him. The stars in the sky were bright, glittering and glowing splattered against the darkness of the midnight canvas. And then there was Zitao, crouching over him, studying his face before speaking.

“You’re a witch.”

“Oh, gee, what was your first clue?” Jongdae watched as the expression on Zitao’s face fell, rolling his eyes instead. “Was it the love spells book? The familiars book? I mean, shit, I might as well have just started mixing potions right in front of you and just saying they were fancy drinks or something, Zitao.”

“You knew I was a witch and didn’t say anything!”

“Well, truth be told, I was  _ going  _ to tell you, but that hex on the front door caught my attention first.”

Zitao reached his hand out towards Jongdae. Jongdae hesitated, staring at Zitao’s hand before curling his fingers around it and pushing himself off of the ground.

“I mean, even for keeping demons out, that black magic is a bit much. And you need to be more careful using your magic around this place. I caught you using magic literally the first day I came into the store and you were there.”

Zitao’s cheeks are pink in embarrassment again. “Stop.”

Regaining his composure, Jongdae caught sight of the way Zitao’s fingers hid a faint glow as he balled his hands up into fists.

“Oh, you’re just a  _ baby  _ witch, aren’t you?” Jongdae teased. “Can’t even hide your magic properly?”

“I said  _ stop,  _ Jongdae.”

Jongdae hummed, taking a step forward, which caused Zitao to take a cautious step backwards.

“You almost killed me.”

“You mentioned that.” Zitao huffed. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought you were—”

“I don’t want apologies.”

“Then what do you want?” Zitao said, his tone bordering on desperate, as Jongdae took another step closer and had him pinned against the streetlamp behind him.

“Explanations.” Jongdae poked his index finger under Zitao’s chin, the nail nudging his chin up just slightly. “On the burial dirt in front of the store.”

“And?”

_ “And _ what kind of witch you are, Zitao.” Jongdae pressed his nail harder, which made Zitao swallow hard.

“What answer am I supposed to give you on the second one? I’m just a witch, Jongdae.”

“Yeah, but are you a good witch, Zitao? Or are you going to be a  _ problem?”  _

Zitao immediately shook his head. “I’m not— I’m not a problem.”

“You’re already a problem.” Jongdae pulled his hand away, Zitao letting out a heavy breath of relief. “You work tomorrow morning?”

Zitao shook his head again after clearing his throat and standing up straight fully.

“Let me take you out to coffee, then. As an apology for terrorizing you for a month and a half now.”

Zitao seemed to hesitantly eye Jongdae, unsure if this was a real offer or not, but nevertheless, he nodded his head and went along with it.

“You’re not gonna, like, kill me when I turn around and walk away, right?” Zitao said. Jongdae laughed.

“I’m not that kind of witch.”

  
  
  


The following day, Jongdae met Zitao at the front of the bookstore, Minseok stuck to his side as they walked along. Zitao’s nose was red from the cold nipping at his skin, and Minseok was sweating from being excessively bundled up. Jongdae forced him to wear a scarf and jacket to at least appear normal in public, which earned a lot of moaning and groaning on Minseok’s behalf. Minseok pulled his scarf away from his face once they reached Zitao, letting out a loud huff of breath.

Zitao jumped when he noticed Minseok beside Jongdae, eyes darting nervously between them before Jongdae waved his hand.

“He already knew before last night, so don’t worry about it.”

Minseok bowed his head slightly. “I’m Minseok,” he introduced himself easily. Zitao hesitantly copied the action, repeating himself in Korean and nodding his head when Jongdae gestured towards the coffee shop just beside the bookstore where he worked.

Minseok ordered for all of them, Jongdae and Zitao taking their seats on opposite sides of the booth they chose just beside the window. Everything about Zitao screamed  _ nervous,  _ from the tapping of his fingertips against the top of the table, to the way he looked around the store, as if half expecting everyone to turn on him and kill him. Jongdae let out a small laugh in amusement, which Zitao didn’t miss.

“You’re seriously scared of me for no reason, Zitao,” prefaced Jongdae, as Minseok walked up with their coffee cups, handing one to Zitao and another to Jongdae, before sitting down quietly beside Jongdae on his side of the booth. “Like I told you last night, I’m not that kind of witch.”

“I didn’t know you were a  _ witch  _ at all,” Zitao hissed. Minseok shushed him gently, which earned him a quick glare. “How am I supposed to trust anything you say?”

“Talk any louder and the entire world will hear you.” Minseok stirred his coffee nonchalantly. Jongdae took a sip of his own drink, hissing and sliding the cup over to Minseok a moment later.

“‘S too hot,” he whined. Minseok rolled his eyes and pressed his palm against the side for a few seconds, the crackling of ice filling the air for just a second, barely enough for Zitao to catch.

“You can control elements?” Zitao said, astounded. “Are you a witch, too? Is that why you brought him along—”

“I’m  _ not  _ a witch,” Minseok said, handing the drink back to Jongdae.

“What are you here for, then? If you know I’m a witch, and Jongdae’s a witch—”

“I’m here for the free coffee, and to keep Jongdae in check.” Minseok looked at Jongdae, urged him to talk again. “Well? It’s your fault I’m here.”

“He’s my roommate,” Jongdae said before taking another drink. “Anyway, really, this is just an apology for harassing you for all that time. Minseok told me to stop, but I thought it was funny, so I kept going.” Jongdae shrugged as Zitao relaxed in his seat a little more, uncomfortably taking his drink in his hands and swallowing down a burning gulp of the bitter coffee.  _ This is disgusting,  _ Zitao thought.

“So... what? You just messed with me that entire time because it was funny?”

“Yeah, basically,” replied Jongdae.

Zitao continued. “And you’re a witch.”

“Two for two.”

“A good one.”

“Yep.”

Zitao let out a loud sigh, sinking back in his seat, boneless from the stress that made his muscles and body tense. “Ah, Jongdae! You really scared me, you know!” Zitao whined loudly, plainly, his voice echoing through the store as Minseok and Jongdae both hushed him at the same time. “I mean, seriously, I thought you were a demon, or a monster, or  _ something  _ messing with me in the store, but you’re just—”

“A comedic genius?”

“I think he was going to say an asshole,” Minseok added. Zitao stifled laughter when Jongdae whined, pushing Minseok and nearly knocking him out of the booth.

“‘Like me’, is what I was going to say,” Zitao said, making Minseok and Jongdae both stop. The smile on Zitao’s face was genuine, and for once, since the night before (and Jongdae’s near death experience), he seemed calm. “I’ve never met another witch.”

“We’re not that great,” Jongdae said, but Zitao nodded his head and continued.

“Honest! I’ve never met another witch, or known another witch, besides people that just practice the religion. It’s... nice to know there’s someone here, too.”

“Not all witches are like me, Zitao.” Jongdae paused, setting his cup down and clicking his tongue in disappointment. “And to be honest, you’re not really like me either.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t practice the magic you do.” Jongdae waved his hand vaguely towards the bookstore. “The black magic.”

“Oh,” Zitao said, deflating again. “That.”

“Yeah, that, and you need to explain why you were using it.”

Zitao took a moment to think, his hands around the cup of coffee. Minseok looked at Jongdae, rolled his eyes and scoffed before leaning closer and setting his hand down on the table to catch Zitao’s attention.

“Jongdae comes off like a hardass, but he’s really just not used to people using black magic.”

“Minseok!” Jongdae protested.

“You see, Jongdae comes from a long, long,  _ long _ line of self righteous witches that think anybody who  _ isn’t  _ a witch, is trash.” Minseok noticed the way Zitao’s lips twitched while he tried to hide a grimace. “They’re also a long, long, long line of conceited bullies who believe any magic other than white magic isn’t really magic at all.”

“Gee, say how you really feel, why don’t you?” Jongdae grumbled behind his coffee cup.

“So when Jongdae asks about why you’re using black magic, it’s just because he hasn’t been exposed to it. He’s just started practicing other kinds of magic in the past five years, after he stopped talking to them. He’s not any more of a witch than you are.”

“God!” Jongdae said, shoving Minseok. “Fine, since you’re exposing everything—”

“Jongdae,” Minseok said warningly.

“You wanna know what Minseok is?”

“Jongdae, I swear if you say anything—”

“He’s an ice fairy! Like, literally, actually, with the pretty little wings and everything!” Jongdae said, Minseok immediately slapping his hand over Jongdae’s mouth. The sound of ice crackling filled the air again, and when Minseok pulled his hand back, Jongdae’s mouth was iced shut, his hands rubbing helplessly against it before letting out a muffled groan of anger.

“Can’t talk if your big mouth is iced shut, can you?” Minseok said. Jongdae narrowed his gaze, sweeping his hand to the side and completely dumping Minseok’s coffee into his lap. “Oh, you fuck!”

Zitao watched as a worker from the counter came over, apologizing for being rude, but asking them to leave for cursing and making a racket. Jongdae covered his mouth with his hands while they left, Zitao trailing after them, almost in a daze. Minseok looked down at his white jeans, completely stained with coffee before shoving Jongdae against the wall and pointing at his clothes.

“You better  _ hope  _ this comes out,  _ and  _ you’re doing the laundry.”

Jongdae muffled something in response, the ice just barely cracking before his lips parted and he let out a loud gasp.

“Keep your freezer burn off my lips!” Jongdae replied, the ice chipping off with his words. “Some of us have normal body temperatures—”

Minseok started speaking at the same time as Jongdae, the two arguing back and forth, voices overlapping one another before they heard laughter bubbling out of Zitao, the two of them immediately stopping and looking at Zitao, who held his stomach with how hard he had started laughing. He doubled over, body shaking with laughter before he stood up and wiped his eyes, completely messing with the black liner he had so meticulously put on this morning.

“Are you two really roommates?” Zitao said, squeaking with laughter.

Jongdae looked at Minseok with furrowed brows, then to Zitao again. “Do we not act like it?”

“We were childhood friends before we were roommates, so that’s probably why.” Minseok straightened himself out. “We’re too close to be casual anymore.”

“That explains it.” Zitao finally stopped laughing long enough to get his words out in a single sentence.

“While we’re being assholes to each other, I might as well come out and say it since Jongdae won’t,” Minseok started, looking at Zitao and hardly letting Jongdae get a word out edgewise. “Jongdae only messed with you for so long because he likes you, and he’s never had a witch friend before. Honestly, if I have to hear him talk about you for two weeks because his pride will keep him from going into the store and seeing you again, I’ll lose my mind, so I wanted to ask if you could come over to the apartment for a while. You and Jongdae can talk— actually talk, and I’ll get some peace.”

“You’re so  _ embarrassing,”  _ Jongdae whined.

“I’m too old to play these games,” Minseok replied.

“You’re not even  _ old.”  _

“Yes,” Zitao replied before they could start again. Jongdae and Minseok both turned to Zitao again.

“Yes?” Jongdae said.

“Yes, I’d like to come over,” Zitao said. “I don’t have to work today, so... that sounds nice. Plus, you could get cleaned up, Min....”

“Minseok,” he supplied.

“Minseok.” Zitao nodded. “Uhm, just let me get my car, and we can get going?”

“You have a  _ car?”  _ Jongdae said.

“Yeah!” Zitao chirped before his cheeks flushed in embarrassment at his own enthusiasm. “I parked a block down, but I can bring it around. Just— give me like two minutes.” Zitao pulled his keys from his pocket, started down the sidewalk, crossing the street.

“I can’t believe you told him all that,” Jongdae grumbled. Minseok crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“You’re an adult. If you like someone, tell them.”

“How is it so simple for you?”

“If the rest of life is gonna be shitty and awful for us, Jongdae, then we have to make one thing easy for the rest of us.”

“Oh, don’t get all weird on me.” Jongdae pouted. “Life isn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“For normal people. Not for a witch— well, two witches now— and a fairy, and whatever the hell else is out there. It’s not that easy for us.”

Jongdae perked up at Minseok’s words, a smile forming on his face. “You think there’s more out there? Like us? Like you?”

“I dunno.” Minseok shrugged, gesturing towards the curb, where Zitao was pulling up with an awkward smile on his face. “Maybe.”

“If there are, we have to find them.”

Minseok nodded his head, opening the back door to Zitao’s car and slipping inside, while Jongdae followed him closely, settling beside him and humming quietly.

“They’ll show up if they want to,” Minseok said. Jongdae pursed his lips for a moment, nodding thoughtfully before looking away.

“Sorry about your pants, by the way.”

Minseok let out a snort of laughter.

“I’m not sorry for freezing your mouth shut. Blue lips isn’t really your color, though.”

“Oh, you ass—”

“What are you gonna do now, huh? I don’t have any coffee for you to throw on me.”

“I’ll just push you out of the car, then!”

Zitao whined as Minseok told him to turn the corner, shoving Jongdae into the car door and earning a loud  _ oof!  _ in response. 

“Oh, guys, please don’t mess with my car!”

**Author's Note:**

> comment with any mistakes~✨


End file.
